


How I Know Carmela Largo

by Bassgoddess



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bassgoddess/pseuds/Bassgoddess
Summary: Graverobber and Amber seemed to have a lot of chemistry, and also a lot of backstory. So I thought I'd write about how they first met, and how Carmela became Amber and addicted to surgeries to change herself so drastically.  Details their relationship pre-film.
Relationships: GraveRobber & Amber Sweet, GraveRobber/Amber Sweet
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

He had met her several years before. Her father, Rotti Largo, had bought her a rhinoplasty for her sixteenth birthday. Well actually, he had made her get the rhinoplasty.

Amber didn't realize then, but that single action had been what sent her on a spiral to self perfection. She never wanted her father to be ashamed of her looks again.

Graverobber didn't know the circumstances surrounding it when she first came to him, but over time he had found out that during the procedure the surgeon had accidentally sewn the incision shut over a nerve, leading to an incredibly painful recovery. Carmela, as she had introduced herself, had run through her allotted stash of zydrate while healing and had been wandering around looking for a dealer when he found her.

He had thought her beautiful then, before she started cutting herself up. He hadn't wanted to start giving her zydrate; he knew it was very hard to stop taking it and most people ended up addicted to it. But when she held out that stack of cash to him with a trembling hand, he could not resist. He remembered how her eyes were swollen and puffy from crying.

"Please," she had spoken to him softly, trying to not be heard by the z-whores at the other end of the alley. "Please...I can't bear it...the pain..."

He had reached his hand out and pocketed the money. "Are you sure?," he asked her, shoving the stash in his pocket. Once you bought street zydrate, you rarely went back.

She nodded 'yes' slowly.

She had been afraid when she saw the needle, and drew back from him. He spoke to her then in a calm tone.

"You can walk away, if you want. I can give you the money back."

She looked to the gun, then to him and shook her head 'no'. Her tongue ran out to wet her cracked lips and she spoke quietly, "I can't stand it."

He gave her a slow nod and removed the glowing blue vial from the belt at his waist, loading the drug into the barrel. He cocked it and took a step towards her effectively pinning her up against a wall. Suddenly terrified, she instinctively drew her hands up. He stopped immediately.

"I'm sorry," she started. "I just don't want it to hurt...I-...I don't want anything to hurt anymore."

He reached for her arm slowly and pulled her right arm to him, turning it up to him and rubbing along the underside, several inches beneath the wrist.

"Everyone is nervous their first time," he said gently, his gloved thumb running in circles along the skin which made her involuntarily shiver. "And trust me," he continued, "nothing will hurt after this."

He brought the gun to her arm and counted.

"One...two...-,"

She opened her mouth to say something or protest, which one he'd never know, for he triggered the gun before he could count to three; before she could change her mind.

And being so inexperienced in street zydrate, her body lost all tension and she crumpled. He reached his arm around her back quickly, catching her and supporting her weight against him as he lowered her to the ground, following.

Shit.

Should he bring her back home? It was Carmela Largo, obviously. Should he leave her here?

He couldn't leave her here in an alley.

Shit.

He quickly holstered his gun.

"Carmela," he spoke, shaking her gently and grasping her face between thumb and forefinger.

"Wake up," he said, more insistently this time, but she did not stir.

This would really not look good, he thought to himself. Largo's oh-so-pure daughter here, in an alley, with a zydrate dealer. Muttering a string of curses he ran his arms under her, one supporting her shoulders, the other behind her knees and lifted her slight form with ease.

He turned and quickly hurried through the alleyways; someplace Largo's men would never look for him.


	2. Chapter Two

There was an abandoned house just north of the cemetery he frequented the most often. Half the house had burned, but the structure was intact as well as a roof over three quarters. It was nothing grand, but it would have to do, the graverobber thought to himself as he laid the girl on a portion of the wood floor which was not charred. His eyes roamed the room searching for anything; rags, blankets, something to cover her with.

A low rumble of thunder rang out as he moved from room to room of the broken-down foundation, searching for something to wrap around her.

Of course.

Of course it would also rain.

He could never catch a break.

Satisfied there were no blankets, towels, or anything of the like, he moved back into what looked like remnants of a living room, and towards the girl. She was sprawled out on her back, completely unconscious. With a sigh, he grudgingly removed his jacket a shoulder at a time and approached her slowly; bending on one knee and drawing the jacket over Carmela before standing and walking away.

Her eyelids fluttered but did not open as she rolled onto her side, clutching the jacket to herself in her sleep.

Just then there was a loud clap of thunder which startled her awake. She sat upright immediately.

"Where?," she started asking, her eyes looking around wildly, finally coming to rest on him.

"It's a condemned house. We're north of town." He said, not looking at her. He seemed to be looking about for something. Graverobber continued, "You passed out. I didn't know exactly what to do so I brought you here."

Her eyes roamed his broad back as he was turned away from her, trying to find something.

"Th-thank you," she stammered.

How embarrassing. She had passed out in front of a drug dealer for Chrissakes. She couldn't even handle a dose of street z.

He continued, his back still to her, his eyes searching out something.

"I figured you probably didn't want your father to know where you were."

He slowly turned to look at her. Her eyes dropped, dejectedly.

"I don't. Thank you for your consideration...that could have been...very bad if anyone found me."

"I know," he said, and his eyes locked on hers.

Before he could say anything else, she broke the gaze, asking, "...what is it you're looking for?"

He walked to the main entryway of the house, looking out at the ever-blackening sky.

"I was trying to find some wood to start a fire. But maybe some garbage will do."

"A fire would be nice," she said softly, pulling the jacket around her shoulders tightly. "I-I can help," she said, slowly trying to get her feet under herself to stand. Satisfied they wouldn't give out under her, she rose slowly. "I can help you find something to burn."

"You should probably just sit down and not move around too much. Don't want you passing out on me again," he said with a small grin.

Her cheeks flushed and he realized quickly that she must actually be embarrassed about not being able to tolerate the drug. What a strange girl. He cleared his throat. "Most people don't handle the first time very well."

He didn't know why he felt obligated to make her feel less awkward, but he had. Her eyes went up to his, almost startled by his admission, and glad he didn't think she was some weak little girl. Not that it mattered what he thought about her...

He was just so...commanding. So big and tall and so...uninterested, was it?

Normally guys her age were all about her, all the time. He was just, well, a man who wasn't all over her. It was nice. Different.

She gave him a quick grin and nodded to the outside. "Well, it's not going to start itself now, is it?," she said, referring to the fire.

He acknowledged her with a quick nod and started outside. She followed closely behind, safely covered in his jacket, as the cold rain began to fall.


	3. Chapter Three

They collected bits of old newspaper, paper bags wrapped tightly around empty bottles of booze, and anything else that would catch and keep a light. He moved quickly, realizing they only had several moments to get everything before it would all be soaked. Carmela, for her part, was actually very helpful and seemed to understand the sense of urgency, moving quickly alongside him.

A few minutes later they had a fire going in the large hallway of the house. It had a complete roof over it, thank God, and they were able to fight the bitter cold. She still had his jacket around her, however, instead of leaving it around her shoulders, she had pulled her arms through the armholes. He regarded her, the fine line of her new nose as she absently played with a button on the front while staring into the flame.

"It feels so nice," she said quietly, still staring into the warmth in front of her.

"It does," he agreed.

Graverobber sighed, and leaned back, walking his hands behind him until he was leaning his weight on them, his feet nearest the the flames.

"Can I ask you something?," he started raising his eyes to her profile again.

Carmela absently looked at him, signaling he could continue.

"Why do you do it?," he said, his eyebrows knitted together.

She didn't say anything, but continued to play with the button on his jacket.

"Why do you cut yourself up?," he asked.

She didn't respond. Slowly he saw her eyes flicker, then she looked down.

She cleared her throat and spoke slowly, still not looking at him.

"I tell everyone because I think I'm ugly, but the real reason is...I just want him to love me."

Graverobber sighed and sat back upright. It was sad.

She continued, "I-I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that to you," then regarding the button, her voice even quieter, "I haven't ever said that to anyone."

Carmela raised her eyes slowly to him, sitting across the fire. The corners of his mouth curved into a sad smile, his lips pressed tightly together.

"I don't know what to say-," he started.

She stood up almost immediately, brushing off her knees.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry...I didn't mean to make you feel awkward. Or sorry for me."

Then she looked at him, still sitting.

"I'm fine," she continued.

He looked at her, unconvinced and got to his feet, walking to besides her, on her side of the fire.

"I don't believe you," he spoke softly.

His voice lowered even still and he said again, "you aren't ugly, Carmela. You always were beautiful."

He looked at her, again she was facing the fire and he, facing her, so he saw her in profile. He saw a single tear fall from the corner of her eye and run down her cheek, falling down her chin to the floor.

"Are beautiful," he said, correcting himself, his hand suddenly moving of its own accord to sweep her long hair gently past her shoulder.

She closed her eyes and quite suddenly pulled him to her, her eyes snapping open, staring him dead in the eyes.

"You think I'm beautiful?," he spoke to him, her voice breathy.

His pulse was speeding up as he stared back at her, his arms unconsciously wrapping against her waist.

"You really do?," she said again, her voice sounding like a small child. It made his heart break.

"Yes," he spoke, his eyes half-lidded as he regarded her flushed cheeks and parted lips. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she edged ever closer to his much larger male body.

"Would you...," she started, and blushed, looking down before raising her eyes back to his and continuing.

"Would you kiss me?," she asked, her voice quiet, and almost impossibly lower.

He knew in an instant if he refused, it would break her. It would reinforce every negative thing she thought about herself and every failure she felt she had. She would think she was repellent and repulsive and completely unlovable. So he decided to oblige.

Running his hand up her back to her neck, he pulled her to him, his lips finding hers and closing over them in an instant.


	4. Chapter Four

Their lips met sweetly and his mouth closed over hers. It was a simple, small kiss, his large hand still at the base of her neck. He opened his eyes and she was looking at him, her lids half-closed. She slowly brought her hand up to cover his much larger one at her neck. She leaned her face slightly, closing her eyes and rubbing her cheek against their now-twined hands.

'Oh Godalmighty', he thought. 'She better not be thinking this is going to be anything romantic.'

But just about as soon as he had thought it, she had taken her hand away and backed up from him. She walked back towards the fire and said a soft "Thank you" over her shoulder to him.

Graverobber was sort of stuck in place. He was alone in this still-standing room during a storm with Carmela Largo. He was being her savior. But, he was only a man after all. It was a simple kiss, but he could have definitely kept going. He cleared his throat and walked away from her, towards the doorway.

"What are you doing?," she asked, finally turning towards the door.

He stuck his head out of the door and looked, most specifically at the part of the stairway that was still standing.

"Exploring," he said turning to her, a grin plastered on his face.

He looked back at the dark hallway, walked outside and proceeded to make quite a ruckus as a low clap of thunder came out which seemed to shake the very foundations of the house. In a moment he was back in the living room, walking to her side. He had some sort of fabric wrapped around a banister rung, and she realized he meant to light it.

"Excuse me," he said as he reached past her and lit the fabric in the fireplace.

"That's gonna burn too fast," she started, trying to be helpful.

"Don't really have much choice though," he said, looking at her.

"Stay here," he continued, as a huge bolt of lightning struck loudly outside making her shriek.

"No way!," she cried out, running into him, grabbing onto his arm.

"I'm going with you," she said, pouting at him.

He narrowed his eyes. "Alright but stay close and for Chrissakes be careful. This whole place looks like it's about to collapse."

She nodded at him, releasing his arm as he led the way out of the room.

Now they were back in the hallway, and the cold air from the open structure made her even more thankful for his coat. She followed him, the light from the torch not nearly enough to lead them. The stairs appeared in front of them, and she immediately regretted her decision to follow him. They went up to the second floor but stopped about three stairs before the top.

"I'm going to see if I can get up there, it's only about a foot gap. Hopefully the lower stairs aren't crumbling. Wait here with the light?," he half asked her as he started to the bottom.

She nodded at him and rose the torch. "Be careful!"

She watched the dealer's broad back and shoulders as he tested each step individually before transferring his weight onto it. He tried to make small talk as he climbed carefully.

"Bet you didn't think this is how your day'd end up? In an abandoned house with a drug dealer?,"

She smiled at his teasing tone of voice. "No I suppose not. I-I wasn't really thinking of anything else except the pain, to be honest."

He turned over his shoulder and gave her a sad close-lipped smile. "Sorry," he said, turning back. He was at the top step now, and he jumped as she held her breath. He landed on the top step fine.

"Hmm...can't see too much up here..." his voice trailed off.

"Well, wait don't go too far!," she called out, scared at being left alone downstairs.

He walked farther into the second floor, out of sight this time.

"Hey," she said, met with no response.

She heard shuffling upstairs, and knew he must be alright.

"HEY!," she said, louder this time.

He poked his head back into view.

"Oh, you are going to love this!," he started.

She raised her eyebrow in reply.

"Come on up!," he said, retreating into the darkness again.

She let out a frustrated sigh and started walking with the torch.

"Well, okay but help me up top," she said.

She approached the top step, and braced her arm against the wall as he appeared in front of her. God, he was so...big. He was tall. She was tall. Well, she was tall in boots, but he was still enormous compared to her. And not fat...not that at all, just large. Built. Just big.

She swallowed as he held out his hand for the torch and she obliged.

He reached his other hand for her as she quickly switched her footing, preparing to cross the gap onto the second-floor landing.

She stepped and almost gasped for his grip on her wrist ended up pulling her square into his chest. He was strong. It was nice. She looked up at him from inches away and saw something flicker in his eyes. He turned away then, but kept his grip on her wrist, transferring it so he was holding her hand.

"Come on," he said, leading her into where she'd seen him retreat to.

It was a door on the left and he pushed it open, entering with her. It was a bedroom. Must have been a children's room for it had two twin beds, still made if you could believe it. Sure there was ash and dust and pieces of wood and debris on the top comforters, but they had beds!

"Oh my God!," she squealed, obviously pleased. "I can't believe it!," she continued, kicking off her boots and sitting on the edge of one of the beds.

"Not bad, huh?," he said grinning at her, choosing the other bed to flop down onto.

"The only thing that would make this better would be a fireplace up here too," she started, but realized he was gesturing at something. Her eyes followed him and realized there in fact, was a fireplace. He took the torch which was almost out and used it to light the fire. Took a bit to get it going, but she was immediately greeted with a rush of warmth. It felt so good and she sat, on the bed, her bare feet stretched towards the direction of the fireplace.

He sat back down on his bed, obviously satisfied with himself. She rose up, walking to his side and he studied her as she did so.

"You did good," she said, her voice no more than a whisper, as she reached around herself and shrugged out of his jacket. She did it in such a way that he had to look away; she was so slow and deliberate he thought for a split second she was trying to seduce him.

She reached out the coat to him and as he moved to grab it, she pulled it behind herself, giggling at him.

He narrowed his eyes and smiled and reached for it, but she backed away. He hooked his arm behind the joint behind her legs and pulled her to him gently, leaving his hands on those creases behind her knees. She was standing with his coat in her hands, her thighs at eye level. Very, very slowly, she brought the coat back in front of her and asked him in her tiny, breathy voice.

"So do you want it, or not?"

They both knew she wasn't talking about the coat. His breathing had somehow sped up of its own accord as she held out the garment to him. His right hand slowly moved then, almost of its own accord, stroking the soft flesh of her lower thigh on the side of her leg slowly. She had been looking down at him, but once his hand started, she felt her eyes close and her head tilt back, a small sigh escaping her lips.

Oh God what should he do? All he wanted to do was touch her skin. Her soft, perfect skin, just like this. He wanted to taste it too. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to fuck her; fuck her til she couldn't stand. He wanted to grab her by her teasing throat and pound into her until she flushed and came and brought him with her. Oh God...

She put her weight on her other leg and slowly bent the leg he was touching at the knee, in effect making it go closer to him. He ran his hand over the front of her thigh now as she watched him through her heavily mascaraed lashes, her lips parted, cheeks flushed.

"Carmela", he said his voice no more than a whisper as he brought his mouth to the area just above her kneecap. "Don't tease me," he continued, his voice gruff.

She was an incoherent mess and couldn't really respond except to make those gasps and mewls he found exquisite. His mouth and hands edged ever higher and her knees buckled momentarily as he neared the place she ached for him.

"I'm not teasing," she said breathily.

"I want you."


	5. Chapter Five

He gritted his teeth and had to close his eyes for a moment before responding. It was hard to say no. He was hard, turned on by her stupid breathy child voice and her long legs and her heavy eyes. Fuck her, he was just trying to do right for once in his life. He thought maybe they could just be dealer and dealee, no complications. And now this.

"You don't want me. You want to feel loved. I can't give that to you," he said, his hands still resting high up on her thighs.

She tensed for a moment but bent her knee farther in his direction, bringing herself closer to his face.

"I'm not that damaged," she said. Which would have been funny, except that her head was tilted back from him and as he raised his head to look at hers, he smiled. It was funny. She was funny. She had a good sense of humor, even after all she'd been through. She was funny on Z.

Her hand came down with grace befitting a dancer and slowly began to stroke the skin at the side of his cheek and his breath left his lungs.

"Want….this….," she said, her breathing starting to rasp as she could feel his face edging closer; his breath just beginning to ghost over her tiny skirt.

He looked back eye level, and lifted the skirt, exposing her panties to him. If you could call them that. No more than a scrap of black lace really.

"Need you," she started, stroking the skin of his face more fervently.

His hand ran between her and the lace, pulling it from her skin, stroking just centimeters from her sex, and she let out a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. He could already feel the wetness. It made him hard.

God knows he was experienced. Although, not as experienced with this, but he didn't mind the act itself. He tried to remember if he had ever tasted a customer's pussy; anything to distract him from the wetness he knew he could lose himself in. And why? Why did she make him feel like this? Was it the unattainable? Was it the fame?

He felt himself growing harder and knew he would need to get this party started soon. And hell, if she was eager, what exactly was the problem? Two hot people…well….one hot person and one reasonably attractive one…should be allowed to do whatever the fuck they wanted, right? Right?

She looked down at him, her mouth parted and open, and she ran her other hand to his other cheek. He felt her eyes on his and raised his head to meet her gaze. "Please," she started, but it was all she could get out before he ran a thick finger between her folds. He kept his eyes trained on hers as he watched her eyelids flutter and tears gather in the corners at the satisfaction and relief of being filled. She let out a startled cry and shut her eyes for a moment, but only to look back at him.

"You…., you…..," she started, but didn't have time to finish before he peeled back her panties with his other hand and met her eyes once more, making her watch him, watch what he was about to do. And their eyes met for more than a few moments before he finally lowered his mouth to her aching cunt.

Her knees buckled and she would have crashed against him if he hadn't withdrawn his finger and used his arm to grab behind her knees and hold her. He held her as his lips and tongue worked against her feverishly, desperate to elicit more of those beautiful moans and sounds she made.

"B….bed….," she was able to eek out and he realized what she was asking and obliged immediately, lifting her with him and throwing her unceremoniously and rather roughly onto the bed he had been sitting on earlier. Then he was over her on her back, throwing her leg over his shoulder licking her until he felt her legs start to shake. Her hands went to his shoulders, alternatively pulling him towards her and pushing him away when the feelings were too intense. He felt her muscles tense and knew she was close. She was crying now, arching into him over the edge of insanity, meeting his tongue with her hips and screaming out when she did so. There was nothing romantic about it. Nothing sensual. It was all animalistic and driven by pure need. It was primal.

She was so close, then closer, closer and finally that fine line between pleasure and pain crossed and she released, breaking into a thousand pieces on his tongue. Her tears left wet tracks down her face; legs quaked together in relief, sore from being held so roughly apart.

Her hands on his shoulders began to massage him as he lifted his glistening face, his gaze meeting hers. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"Thank you," she said to him, her voice trembling, and he moved until his head was near her stomach. Then he motioned to her.

"Get up," he said roughly, his erection hard in his pants. She scrambled to move but it wasn't fast enough for him.

"Get up," he said again, softer this time. "Get on all fours."

Carmela obeyed immediately. It wasn't her favorite position, but by all means, she definitely owed him after rocking her world so successfully.

"Yeah baby," she said with a practiced tone that made his dick nearly limp. It was like bad porn.

"No," he said, caressing her back. "Don't do that. Don't make this like that."

She seemed to know what he was talking about because she stiffened immediately.

"Get on your back," he said softly, but commandingly, and she obliged, ever too quickly.

"I thought you wanted it from behind," she started, pouting at him slightly.

"I changed my mind," he replied.

When she laid on the bed, he crawled on top of her and stilled. Oh for Chrissakes, it was like he was a virgin on prom night.

Get it together, seriously.

All of a sudden they were strangers again, it seemed. The intimacy of this somehow negated the urgency of him servicing her. This felt warm. This felt…real.

He was inside of her before their lips had met again, and her lids closed slightly as fresh tears dotted her cheeks.

"You feel so….," she started, but another thrust cut her off.

"Yeah," he responded. He knew. It was fucking amazing, The heat, the softness, the tightness, the wetness. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck.

It was so good he had to close his eyes to keep from two pump chumping it in the first three minutes. Think of anything else. Anything.

He was concentrating so hard on thinking of anything but her that he didn't realize her face was an inch from his.

"Kiss me?," she said, although it came out more like a question. And when he did, the game changed entirely.

Their lips met and parted and the tongues ran over each other.

His hands found her breasts, kneaded the nipples.

Their bodies moved together.

Time stopped.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He woke up several hours later, still naked, wrapped around her. He dressed, admiring the way the embers from the fire cast light that danced upon her skin.

He admired the perfection of her upturned nipples, the smooth, flat skin of her stomach, the perfect legs.

She was sleeping, turned away from him.

He should have felt happy. He didn't.

He was extremely unsettled. Nothing like that had ever happened to him before, although he assumed she had lots of lovers and was fairly regular in her affections.

Best to leave it. Leave it all alone, hope it went away.

Hope she went away.

With one final glance over his shoulder at her sleeping form, he headed downstairs.


End file.
